


Slow Drawl

by rae_aaah



Series: Written for Others [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cowboy Keith (Voltron), Cowboys, M/M, cowboy lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 22:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rae_aaah/pseuds/rae_aaah
Summary: Keith’s hands come up and grip at Lance’s hips, stills the small undulation of Lance’s body with a firm squeeze. Lance sighs when Keith rubs against him.“You ridin’ a buckin’ bronco, now, boy,” Keith croons, limbs still a little heavy from his nap but his blood is starting to stir.“I’ve ridden that mechanical bull in the pool hall for a good thirty seconds, cowboy, I think I can handle you,” Lance teases, grabs at the collar of Keith’s shirt and yanks.





	Slow Drawl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lovely nibielis who lit a fire in me with not only cowboy!Keith but cowboy!Lance as well.

Keith watches as Lance slings his leg over the saddle of the horse, how those jeans hug his rounded backside. The fabric stretches just right as Lance settings against the seat, the leather creaking a little as he lifts with his thighs to get in a better position. Keith swallows around the lump in his throat and shifts in own saddle. His horse shifts as if offended and Keith nudges her with his heels. She moves to stand next to Lance’s horse, their big bodies casting a long, wide shadow over the grass.

“Hey,” Lance says as Keith comes up to him, prods at the brim of his hat with a finger. “How’s it ridin’?”

“Quit with that shitty accent,” Keith says, scowling. “You know I’ll start to talk that way if you do.”

“That’s the name of the game, partner,” and Lance gives him a slow wink and a flash of teeth under his smile.

Keith clicks his tongue against the roof his mouth, pulling the reins of his horse away from Lance’s. “You’ll be sorry,” he drawls and damn, he’s already doing it.

All he hears is Lance’s chuckle from behind him as he gallops off.

**

Keith reclines against the sturdy trunk of a old maple tree. There’s a cool breeze blowing up from the south and the sweat on Keith’s skin dries until it becomes stiff with the lingering salt. His legs are stretched out in front on him and he has his hat shielded over his face to block out the sun filtering through the leaves.

There’s a heavy weight setting against his thighs, the sweet smell of hay and the soft, powdery vanilla scent of Lance’s soap.

“Keithy,” Lance murmurs, pressing the vee of his thighs into Keith’s lap. “Keithy, rise n’ shine, cowboy,” and he’s pulling Keith’s hat away from his face. When Keith opens his eyes from his light doze he sees that Lance has taken his hat and it sits on his head, tilted jauntily back. Keith’s hands come up and grip at Lance’s hips, stills the small undulation of Lance’s body with a firm squeeze. Lance sighs when Keith rubs against him.

“You ridin’ a buckin’ bronco, now, boy,” Keith croons, limbs still a little heavy from his nap but his blood is starting to stir. 

“I’ve ridden that mechanical bull in the pool hall for a good thirty seconds, cowboy, I think I can handle you,” Lance teases, grabs at the collar of Keith’s shirt and yanks, pushes and Keith is twisting with a fall to the blanket spread under them. Lance settles even more heavily against his lap, the swell of his ass a welcome weight against his growing arousal.

Keith chuckles, braces his boots against the ground and Lance leans against his thighs, his own spread wide over Keith’s hips. He can see the shadow the tent in Lance’s jeans make and Keith’s mouth waters. Lance leans down, the smell of the hard day descending with him and Keith’s senses are full of Lance Lance Lance-

He can taste the ripe cherries they ate, some fizzy soda Lance drank out of a sweating glass bottle. He basks in the heat radiating off of Lance’s body.

Lance chuckles against his mouth, smiles widely, grunts when Keith’s hand wanders up the back of his work shirt. Lance is smooth along his spine, the muscles of his back supple and thick and Keith pulls his nails over the skin. Lance judders in his arms, writhing against him. 

Keith smiles back with him, their teeth clacking a little between kisses. He grabs at Lance’s waist, hoists him and rolls, pinning Lance under him. Keith’s hat flies off of Lance’s head, but Lance’s long arm reaches up, lighting quick, to grab at it. 

He puts it back on Keith’s own head. “Hey there, hoss,” and Lance lets the vowels roll and Keith shivers at the sound. 

“Hey there, yourself,” Keith says, ducking down and pressing his lips to Lance’s neck. He bites the skin there, sucks the salt from his pores. When he leans back, Lance eyes are blown wide and black, the blue iris a narrow band around his pupil. His cheeks bloom in bright roses and his bobbing throat is littered with Keith’s kiss marks. “Wass’wrong, pretty boy? Hmm?” Lance closes his eyes and throws his face to the side. His chest rises and falls rapidly. “I could do this all day,” and Keith attacks the other side of Lance’s neck. 

Long fingers dig into his hair and hold him close, Lance’s thighs falling wide open and Keith tucks himself between them. He sips from Lance’s skin, salt and sun and the sweet smell of powdered vanilla, speaking to Lance in that slow way of his, telling him all the dirty things he wants to do. They lay there for a long while, and by the time Keith pulls away, Lance’s throat is littered with little suck marks. His chest rises and falls heavily, his nipples peaked under his shirt, and Keith gives Lance a final deep kiss before getting to his feet.

“Come’on, pretty boy,” Keith drawls, tips his hat with his fingers, appraising the spot between Lance’s strong thighs. “Let’s head on inside and I’ll take good care of ‘ya. Whadd’ya say, hmm?” Keith holds out his hand.   


Lance leans up on his elbows and takes it, gets hauled to his feet. He leans into Keith’s space and his hand wanders south. “Sounds good to me, hoss. We’ll see if you can break that bull’s record, eh?”   
  



End file.
